“You don’t have to thank me for that.” His tone is gravel, thick and rough.
“You’re a nice guy, Rhodes,” I murmur, his presence making me nervous. Not in a get-away-from-me way, though. In a I-want-you-inside-of-me way, which is terrifying.
“I very much do not want to be a nice guy right now,” he whispers, nose caressing the side of my cheek. He drops an arm and it trails down my side, landing at my waist. “What are we doing, sweetheart?” He sounds pained.
That nickname was undoing my carefully built-up resolve. I feel it everywhere—in my chest, in my stomach,lower.I open my mouth, but nothing comes out at first.
Because I don’t know what we’re doing.
I don’t know how to define this, or what to call it, or how to stop it from happening when every fiber of my being is screaming at me not to stop at all.
“I don’t know.” It’s the truth.
He exhales, like that answer doesn’t surprise him—but then his hand cups my jaw, tilting my face up so I have no choice but to meet his eyes.
Blue and burning.
“Do you still want me to go slow? I swear I’m trying to let you set the pace, Monroe, but I’m not doing a very good job. You’re driving me crazy.”
I close my eyes and let him stroke the side of my face. Did I still want him to go slow?
Not right now, I didn’t.
“I’m not drunk,” he says, continuing his slow exploration of the side of my body, leaving gooseflesh in the wake of his hands. I know he’s not. I knew it when I invited him into my house.
“I know,”I whisper. I breathe in his scent. Woodsy with a hint of something citrus. It’s intoxicating. Much more than anything I would have had to drink in the bar.
“But can I stay anyway?”
I hesitate just a beat before deciding to give in. “Yes.”
Rhodes barely waits for my whisper to leave my mouth before crashing his against mine. There’s nothing soft or hesitant about it—he devours me, kisses me like he’s been starving for weeks and I’m finally within reach.
I’ve been holding us at arm’s distance, and I’m not sure that’s what I want anymore. Not after tonight. I’ve been doing it all on my own for the last year, and before that… Did I even have any real relationships? I am seriously questioning every one I’ve had up until this point.
If Rhodes is faking it, he’s really damn good. Consider me duped.
His hands skim down my sides, gripping my hips, pressing me back against the wall like he’s worried I’ll change my mind. I won’t. I can’t. Not when he’s kissing me like this, not when his tongue slides against mine, when I can feel his erection between too many layers of clothing.
Well, you can’t fakethat.
I dig my fingers into his sweatshirt, pulling him closer, and he groans—a deep, guttural sound that shoots straight through my body. His hands tighten their grip, thumbs slipping under my shirt, brushing over bare skin, and I arch into him like I have no control over my own body anymore. He inches up, expertly releasing the clasp on my bra. My nipples peak, and he rolls them under his fingers.
“Damn, Monroe,” he whispers, desperate. “I can’t get enough of you.”
Rhodes tugs at the hem of the jersey I’m still wearing. “I’m tempted to fuck you with this on,” he murmurs into my mouth, but continues peeling it up over my head. The jersey and my bra are discarded, and suddenly his palms are dragging over my stomach, up my ribs, tracing every inch of bare skin like he’s memorizing me. He pulls back briefly to admire the view, and I preen under his gaze. I let myself be dragged back to him so he can continue his worship down my body.
“You’re gonna kill me, Abrams,” he murmurs, lips trailing along my jaw, down the column of my throat.He nips at my collarbone, then soothes the spot with his tongue, and I swear my entire body lights on fire.
I curl my fingers into his hair, tugging just to hear the low growl he makes in response. When he kneels before me to peel my leggings off, I nearly combust on the spot.
Rhodes McKnight is on his knees forme. He watches me—hungry, possessive, completely wrecked already.
“Do you think about me?” I murmur down at him.
“You have no idea.” He grins. “My hand has accumulated a lot of miles since you walked back into the rink, baby.”
“Baby?” I look down at him, failing to stop a feral grin from growing on my face. Dammit.